Strength of Hope
by Grignard
Summary: "The boy has a true horseman's seat, Sire. I'll warrant there's noble blood in him." Lune encounters Shasta for the first time after his kidnapping.


_My second foray into Narnian stories and as usual, part of one of my favorite book._

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><p>Strength of Hope<p>

"_He was pleased to hear the Lord Darrin say to the King, "The boy has a true horseman's seat, Sire. I'll warrant there's noble blood in him."_

_"His blood, aye, there's the point," said the King. And he stared hard at Shasta again with that curious expression, almost a hungry expression, in his steady, grey eyes."_

-The Horse and His Boy, C.S. Lewis

The great golden disc of the sun edged towards its western abode as the hunting party gauged their quarry. A couple of pheasants, a fine hind, and several hares already occupied their count. The Dogs had smelled a boar but lost their prey amongst the river. A pity, it would have been a vast addition to their winter stores. King Lune dismounted and wet his head in the cool river. There would be no reason to laugh over a scanty meal if he could help it, although judging from his waistline, those had been few and far between.

The peaks of Anvard Castle could just be seen above the tree tops atop the southern slopes of the pass. The cheery flags, typically flapping merrily, hung limp in the breeze. Flies buzzed lazily and the Horses flicked them aside with a whinny.

"It is nearly the hour which we must turn back, your Highness," Lord Darrin suggested. "It would not be anyone's wish to stay in the forest all night."

"Aslan will protect us!" Another member of their merry group asserted with a hearty drag from his wine skin. "Right, gentlemen?"

A hearty huzzah was his answer as they toasted to their protector, the great Lion, the King above all High Kings. Archenlanders and their allies, the Narnians, took heart whenever the son of the Emperor-over-the-sea made his presence known. With a shake of his golden mane, enemies fled. Evil was vanquished at the sound of his terrifying roar and a single leap of sharp teeth and claws. A century of the White Witch's rule was ended through his doing, along with the advent of the four Narnian Kings and Queens. King Lune took a deep breath of the clean, sultry, summer air. That all under Aslan's watch could be free, prospering through their own hard work and fortitude (for Aslan wasn't a _tame_ lion), was a miracle.

Speaking of miracles, he'd hoped that the Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve were having better luck taming his contrary son. A good boy, he was, Prince Corin, though possessing a tendency to enter in fists swinging than with a rational thought. In his heart of hearts, King Lune supposed it was better for his golden haired child to be fierce in spirit and slow in wits than to be lacking in both areas. Though as a father, he would always love his son unconditionally.

Sons, he amended. Always he could not think of one without the other! He rued the day he and his dear wife had ever decided to receive that Narnian Centaur's blessing. If they had not done so, would he be lamenting the antics of two boys instead of one? That dastardly Lord Chancellor had stolen his firstborn, and in doing so condemned his wife to a shortened life of worry and sorrow. Though Bar was not slain by Lune's own hand, vengeance was had upon the man who took his flesh and blood.

Had Cor been taken in by a loving family? Was he a prince of another palace or a lowly beggar in the street? He was not in Narnia or Archenland. If so, his child would have been found quickly through the combined efforts of all the rulers. One would say that it was not his story to know, but by the Lion, could he not know if his own son was alive or dead?

King Lune could not dwell on it for long, the men were waiting. He gave a curt nod, and with a cheery _Ti-ro-to-to-ho!_ the bugler signaled that the royal hunting party would be returning home.

_Home, to which I hope you would return to one day, Cor._

He squinted his grey eyes onto the horizon as the setting sun continued its journey into the dark. Half of the green clad men were mounted and his own steed was waiting, nickering quietly. The setting sun served to illuminate the area and he could see the flash of silver as the stirrup was held for him to clamor up. Where had his youth gone when he could do so without a second thought?

A sudden burst of noise and the entire group froze into space. Was it a wild animal, friend, or foe?

King Lune spread his arms in jubilation upon realizing who it was that had made such a dynamic entrance into the group. Wasn't Corin supposed to be with King Edmund and Queen Susan? And in such a condition! The young boy looked positively spent, stumbling slightly with flies buzzing about his sweaty face. Where were his fine clothes and his companions?

"Corin! My son! And on foot, and in rags! What-"

His happiness turned to astonishment, however, as the gasping words escaped from the boy's mouth. "Fly... shut the gates...Rabadash and two hundred horse." On closer inspection, this was not his son, though so like in body and face.

This doppelganger was gaunt, with thin cheekbones and knobby knees, as if his days were spent more in hunger and thirst than not. His blond tresses had not seen a bath in days and threadbare clothes hung off in tatters.

The boy answered each of Darrin's questions succinctly and without hesitation. The men listened in astonishment. Any lesser being would have bragged of his exploits, yet this slip of a youth held no such aspirations. He raced Rabadash all the way from Tashbaan, across the scorching desert on foot, and encountered the reclusive Hermit? Surely his deeds should be immortalized!

"Question him no more; Darrin," said King Lune. "I see truth in his face. We must ride for it, gentlemen. A spare horse there, for the boy. You can ride fast, friend?"

His tongue slipped on the word "friend." A child identical to Corin materializes from the dark, proclaiming news of peril and doom for Archenland. Could it be?

Lune watched as the fair-haired youth, skin and bones and all, easily slipped a bare foot into the stirrup of the spare horse and swung up onto the saddle. His posture was straight and his legs gripped the sides of the horse firmly upon his lofty height.

"The boy has a true horseman's seat, Sire. I'll warrant there's noble blood in him."

_Do you know how close to the truth you are speaking, Darrin?_

The child's face lit up at Darrin's words. It seemed to be that kind words rarely were sent his way. If, _if_, this were not his lost son, then without a doubt Lune would adopt the forsaken boy as his own for this reason alone!

"His blood, aye, there's the point," said Lune as he drank in the look of the child. He could barely get the words out of his mouth. How many times had he pelted after a blonde boy only to realize that it was not his heir? He would not say it aloud now, even with this youth in front of him. The eyes could not convince a heart so sorely wounded.

A soft clearing of a man's throat interrupted the large King's thoughts.

"Your horse, sire."

Lune managed to tear his eyes away from the mysterious stranger and settle himself atop his horse. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the boy awkwardly placing his hands on the reins. The child was not trained then to ride. How could one ride a horse without knowing how to direct it?

_Who are you?_

Another sharp blast of the horn, and the party started at a brisk canter. Thoughts of danger and dread filled their hearts and minds, bringing haste to their movements. Lune tallied their provisions and weapon supplies with the other Lords. Though King Peter was off fighting giants to the North, perhaps a Narnian envoy could still be of assistance.

So busy was he in preparations for the defense of his kingdom, that Lune realized the street urchin never materialized from the fog until it was too late. The words he wished to utter to find him were immediately upon his lips, but he could not spare a single man. Not when his home and people were in danger.

"_A day will come when that boy will save Archenland from the deadliest danger in which ever she lay."_

Lune glanced out from the gate to where the mountains had swallowed his kingdom's savior and his hope.

_Please Aslan_, he begged. _Don't let the price of saving my kingdom be my son's life._

A whisper of a roar in the wind was his only answer.

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><p><em>Please review,<em>

_Grignard_


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